Like a Michael Bay movie which can’t manage its copious special effects.
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Phylactery Factory is a record that may come to be seen as an early masterpiece in an illustrious, if undervalued, career.
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Pop moves in mysterious ways – or at least it does in cycles.
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By naming their sophomore effort Apocalypso, Sydney’s The Presets are making a statement of intent.
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When it comes to trip-hop, Blue Lines is ground zero.
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Kids, don’t do drugs.
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The critics are saying Joni Mitchell, but Laura Marling is far more comfortably placed within the territory of commercially viable new folk-pop.
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Dancing about architecture is also a perfectly legitimate pastime. It’s art, for fuck’s sake.
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Imagery of hang overs and flirtatious women doesn’t quite match the baby face of the band.
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This moment was bound to arrive.
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Authenticity is a word that is often thrown around in music circles.
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I knew a stoner once, and I’ve hated myself ever since.
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